


Thus Stalked the Lion of the Labyrinth

by jflashandcrash



Series: The Traitors of Olympus [2]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan, The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan
Genre: Tales from Mount Othrys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-26 02:42:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6220453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jflashandcrash/pseuds/jflashandcrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Percy slays the Minotaur, Kronos creates a new monster to patrol the Labyrinth, one with the intelligence and innovation of a half-blood, the patience and grace of a cat, and the invulnerability of a god. The Romans at Camp Jupiter think this monster is an urban legend, but when Romans start disappearing…<br/> </p><p>This is a stand-alone prequel to the Traitors of Olympus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I: Pray to Your Gods of Choice

          Michael’s spear was two feet away from him. This meant that he was two feet, two inches of hemp rope, and four enemy soldiers away from freeing he and Ara from the predicament he’d gotten them into.

          Their hands were tied. Their four captors formed a tight box around them. The two marching behind would prod their backs with a blade if they didn’t walk fast enough. Although no one else was in the torch lit passage, the roar of a crowd thundered through the stone walls.

This was the first time Ara and Michael had been allowed to look around in days. As soon as they were captured, they’d been black bagged with something that must have originally been carrying rotten potatoes.

         Annoyance made Michael grind his teeth. The whole time, his spear had been strapped to the back of the chattiest of his guards.

          “You’ll get a choice of one weapon before we toss you down,” the tall, Hispanic boy prattled. “I assumed you would want to use your own weapons, so I kept them for you. I would rather die with my own weapon in hand than a stranger’s.”

          That spear hadn’t done Michael any good yet. After he’d endured his trials at the Wolf House, it waited uselessly by his bunk while he did his marching training. Ara would prefer her own weapon though.

          Michael risked a glance over to the centurion.

          Her chin was raised, like she was trying to inhale less musky air. Despite their lack of food and the proper sleep, she looked calm and controlled. Dirt from the bag dusted her boy-cut, blond hair to a light brown. Her conniving, hazel eyes flicked between the two guards ahead of them, strategizing.

          The day before—or so Michael thought, it was hard to tell with a bag over his head—they took her away for a few hours. Chris, the babbling guard, said it was to “talk” to some guys named Jak-Jak and Luke about Rome’s defenses. From what he heard, it sounded like Jak-Jak was trying to serenade Ara with a guitar. When she got back though, and Michael touched her leg with his foot, he could feel her shaking. He was glad the tenacity hadn’t left her face after that encounter.

“Pft, you’re not good enough with a weapon to call it your own,” the female guard beside Chris giggled.

          “Shut up Mary!” Chris whined.

          Those two had been playfully bickering the entire time, while the guards behind them stayed completely mute. He’d have forgotten they were there if it weren’t for the occasional spear jab.

          As the two guards bantered, Michael’s mind reeled for an escape. Ara normally saved everyone—she was known for coming up with ingenious ideas, but Michael refused to wait. She’d managed to get them free from their bindings once, but a hellhound cornered them until Chris, Mary, and the other two came running. Now it was his turn.

          “Here’s the entrance,” Chris stated.

          There was a six by six hole in the wall on the right. Although he’d grown accustomed to the darkness, he could barely make out the structure _below_.

          The opposite side of the hole lacked a floor, instead providing a six foot drop into a room filled with discarded armor. A single candle flickered dimly on the floor, beside… a video camera?

          The reek of something spoiled wafted to greet them.

          Michael wasn’t ready for them to stop walking.

          “This entrance will disappear once you’re down there,” Chris said with the solemn repetitiveness of an officer whose only job was to deliver death notifications. “Um… is there anything you want me to tell your loved ones?” He rubbed the back of his head, eyes sinking to the floor. “I can’t guarantee they’ll immediately get word of your death or your message, but I can try to get it over as fast as possible.”

          Ara’s stoic silence was her only response.

          Although Michael spoke to their captors as little as possible, he found himself asking, “What is this place?”

          Chris frowned. When their gaze met, Michael saw how regret and reluctance dug dark trenches around Chris’ eyes.

          A growl hummed out of the darkness, soothing and sweet as the clank of wind chimes.

          The thunder of the crowd echoed in response.

          _This is the end_.

          The realization made Michael dizzy. His mouth salivated. “Tell Gwendolyn I l… tell her she’ll make it to college and she’ll do great there,” he whispered.

          Chris nodded. “I hope never to meet her in person, but I’ll do my best to see the message delivered. Your name is Michael?”

          Michael nodded.

          “I’m Chris Rodriguez. It was nice to meet you Michael. I hope he doesn’t take his time with you.”

 

          The pile of armor cushioned their fall more than Michael expected.

          “—Alfred Blackwell—“ a voice echoed from above, far past the hole Chris pushed them out of.

          Ara hit the ground first and gagged.

          He didn’t understand why until the stench engulfed him. His shoulder slammed into one of the breast plates.

          “—Xiao Long Xie—“

          As Camp Jupiter was right by a major road, he was no stranger to the aroma of road kill, but this was different. The putrid fetor of rotting meat hit harder than a splash of Venus’s perfume. Even breathing through his mouth didn’t help.

          Then he realized what smelled: they hadn’t landed on a pile of armor.

          “—and Karina Esposito are the names of your decaying comrades around you,” the voice said, silky and deep. It reminded him of that rock artist from Nine Inch Nails. “Once you’re done vomiting, may we add your names to the list for the pleasure of the next participants?”    

          Michael threw up as soon as he rolled off the bodies.

          Karina had been on _probatio_ with him before she went missing, two months ago. He could remember her tripping him outside the bathhouse, right before he was about to say hi to Gwen. She’d disappeared on a trip to visit her parents in the Carolinas. They sent scouts looking for her.

          Michael stared at the pile. There must have been at least six bodies. Karina had been _here_.

          Two _thunks_ of metal followed their fall, but Michael couldn’t bother to see what they were.

          When Ara cut away at his bindings with her sword, he continued to stare.

She struck him. “Michael,” she hissed.

          Michael shook his head. Though he trembled, he shot to his feet at attention.

          Ara shoved his spear into his hand.  

          Something fluttered near her head.

          Michael reflexively stabbed at it. The object whizzed to the side, then fluttered back into place.

          It was the video camera. Little mechanical wings buzzed on either side of it like the rapid beat of a hummingbird. “Name please,” a speaker on it repeated, the same voice that listed off the bodies.

          Like the words were being projected, they echoed above.

          From what Michael could tell, the din of the crowd had gone silent.

          They were being _broadcasted_. Their death would be _broadcasted_ to that crowd. The nausea started to wear down his stomach again.

          Ara scowled defiantly at the camera. “I am Megara Laskaris—Centurion of the Second Cohort, daughter of Kratos and I _will_ avenge my brethren,” she snarled.

          Another rumble reverberated off the walls, like they were laughing.

          The camera buzzed lower, closer to Michael’s face. “Is the other Roman too scared to crow?” it asked.

          Michael cleared his throat. He shook violently. For Ara’s sake, he wanted to shout with bravado, but he heard his teeth chatter through his response. “I am M-Michelangelo Russo, son of M-Minerva, on _probatio_ for the Second Cohort.”

          “Pleased to meet you again Meg and Mike. You may recognize this as the voice of Jak-Jak.” Michael thought he saw the determination on Ara’s face falter. “I will be your host this evening. A section of the Labyrinth has been cornered off in your honor—but wait! That means, if you can lose this camera or the Leonis Caput, you can run free! Oh my, a chance of escape!”

          _The Leonis Caput_.

          Michael was glad he could steady himself with his spear.

          That was supposed to only be a myth, to keep Romans away from the Labyrinth, as if the other monsters and the madness weren’t enough. If the Leonis Caput were real…

          “We’ll even give you a ten second head start before we release him. Starting… ten… nine…”

          “Michael, to my side. Protect our right flank,” Ara directed.

          She stepped deeper into the room.

          “Eight… seven…”

          Quickly, Michael assumed position beside her. The room had two different exits, one on either side. Both had dim candlelight flickering against the stone floors and walls. Michael still had to squint to see. From what was visible, neither room had a pile of bodies like this one.

          “Six…” the camera followed them through the left opening.

          “Michael, if I buy you time, can you weave a net out of my cloak?” Ara asked. He couldn’t believe how composed she was. Maybe she thought they _could_ get away.

          “Five…”

          Michael wanted to break that camera and the microphone inside. “Yes,” he said. If there was one thing he was proud to be mocked for, it was his skill with materials. Trying to steady his hands, he grabbed for her cloak.

          Ara unclasped it, letting him catch the fabric.

          “Four…”

          They needed a strategic spot to lure this beast. According to the stories, it was invulnerable but—as they’d been reminded over and over again by the Second Cohort’s Lar—everything had an Achilles heel.

          He kept his spear pinned between his right elbow and ribcage. Michael’s hands went on auto pilot as he scanned their right side. When he glanced behind them, he saw the doorway they’d exited had disappeared. Their current hallway lacked a ceiling and curved blindly half a football field in front of them. The wall on one side stopped about eight feet up. Torches lined the edge, sparse enough to keep patches of total blackness along the curves. On the other side, the wall expanded upward into the darkness, little windows randomly dotting the stones.

          It was almost impossible to keep tabs on potential threat zones.  

          “Three…”  

          “Shut up Jak-Jak!” Michael suddenly snapped. He surprised himself with his exclamation, feeling none of the bravery he espoused, “Your voice is annoying!”

          Ara flashed Michael a smile of approval.

_Hope_ , he reminded himself, _we still have hope._

          “Ready or not, here he comes!” the camera buzzed happily.

          The grind of metal creaked through the Labyrinth. Michael flinched. He could envision, _somewhere_ , a gate being dragged open.

          Another purr reverberated through the dank air. This time, the rhythmic growl _felt_ closer.

          “We need to get to higher ground,” Michael whispered.

          Ara nodded, not needing an explanation. She gestured to the eight foot wall. “We can’t see up there,” she stated.

          He knew the risk, but it felt right.

          They checked around their corridor.

          When they saw no one coming, and heard nothing but the buzz of the camera, Ara knelt down to help boost Michael onto the ledge with the torches.

          He felt naked leaving the spear and partially completed net with her, but there was no way he could clasp the edge with them. He had hoped his hand would be able to encompass the full width of the wall. No such luck.

          Once he finished pulling himself up, he found the wall wasn’t a wall at all, but another floor, tiered from the corridor below. There was maybe a ten foot length of floor space from the drop off he’d just climbed to the next wall. This next wall reached up another eight feet before—Michael assumed from his architectural knowledge—folding into another floor, into another tier. There was a window in the wall in front of him. Maybe they were scaling the edge of some kind of stepped ziggurat, with windows in every tier. From what he heard about the Labyrinth, he doubted it. This place wasn’t supposed to have logic. That’s why children of Minerva were rumored to lose their sanity first here.

          When Ara poked him with his spear, he jumped. Quickly, he lifted up his weapon and set it beside him. The net came up next, hooked onto the spear. Finally, Ara made a run jump, and he caught her arm to help her up the rest of the way.

          No noise yet from the Leonis Caput, other than that first growl. The crowd had gone silent. The quiet was worse than the prior din. Even the camera settled on the window ledge in the wall behind them, so its buzz disappeared.

          Ara broke one of the torches off the edge of the tier. After checking the window and declaring that the interior fell twenty feet into an inner chamber, Ara took watch beside him. “There are bars along that walls,” she observed, pointing to the one furthest away, across the corridor they’d climbed out of.

          Michael hadn’t noticed them before, but there were thin bars extended diagonally from window to window on the wall that stretched straight from the floor to the… assumed ceiling. They didn’t look stable enough to scale.

          “Finish up the net,” Ara commanded.

          Michael had barely stopped working, but the silence was getting to him. He wished something would make noise. All he could hear currently was the sound of his own heartbeat thudding inside his head.

          At least the smell wasn’t so horrible up here.

          “You have a thing for my sister?” Ara asked.

          Michael glanced at her. Ara’s lips were pressed together. Her knuckles were white against her sword grip. Her centurion medal gleamed dully in the torchlight. Despite looking so relaxed, the hush must have unnerved her as well.

          “Hm?” he asked, pretending he hadn’t heard.

          “Gwen,” she clarified, eyes narrowing as she scanned their surroundings.

          Michael let his eyes unfocus on the wall across from them, the one with the bars and multiple windows. “She is a compassionate and kind leader—“ he started to say.

          “You’re going to make me throw up again,” Ara chided.

_Throw up._ The memory of their fellow comrades unceremoniously rotting in the other room made both of them wince.

          “I could set something up for the two of you,” Ara offered after a moment. “When we get out of here.”

_When we get out of here_ …

          “I would like that,” Michael admitted. “Maybe a walk through the unicorn fiel—“

          “I was thinking an extra training session. You’ve been on marching duty and need some combat practice. Gwen needs a punching bag.”

          Michael didn’t hear her joke.

          A dark mass crawled from a window opposite them, scaling along the bars with the nimbleness of an acrobat and the speed of a snake. The creature itself was silent, but the metal rattled as it slunk down to the next window. A faint golden glow emanated off its fur.

          Neither of them had time to react before it disappeared into the next window down. Michael thought—for a half a second—of throwing his spear. The monster had been defenseless. But that was the problem. It was like it _wanted_ them to attack it.

          Now it was gone.

          The unnerving quiet returned.

          Michael gritted his teeth. He hadn’t realized that he’d risen to his feet. The net was complete in his hands.

          Ara stood still by his side, eyes surveying the area.

          Another growl vibrated around them. The inhuman sound made him tremble. They shouldn’t have been making plans to fight the Leonis Caput. They should have taken off running and tried to lose the camera before the countdown ended.

_Fear magic_. Michael tried to calm his thoughts—his brain was his best tool and he couldn’t let it choke up over anxiety. _Was_ the growling some kind of fear magic?

          In their monster fighting classes, they’d memorized the traits of every mythological beast, so they would know how to use their weaknesses against them. This one was new, but it _must_ have similar traits to other monsters.

          The camera buzzed to life, making Michael jump. It darted from the window behind them, flew over their heads and refocused on them at a direct 180 of its previous position, almost exactly where they’d seen the Leonis Caput crawl.

_Come on. You’re a child of Minerva_ , Michael internally berated. _There must be something you can think of to give us an advantage._

          If he were filming a movie, he would make sure the monster was always _just_ on the peripheral of the shot. And the Labyrinth isn’t designed in a logical manner so—

          Michael followed the camera’s focus, to the tiered wall behind them, to the single window, where a pair of reflective eyes gleamed back.

          “Ara—“ was all he could shout as the Leonis Caput lunged out of the window.

 


	2. Part II

          The moldy stench of animal hide choked Michael. In the dim lighting and near silence, this felt like his only unobscured sense: the potent musk of a hide riddled with the debris of death and rot.

          Michael gritted his teeth. A noxious sense of helplessness made him feel like his muscles were liquidating.

          The Leonis Caput danced out of the window with the rapidity of a flicker of light. The creature was tall and lean; its skin sagged in folds that whirled out like a skirt as it dropped to the floor. It alternated its advance, rolling to the side, stalking on all fours then rising onto its hind legs to take a jerky step forward.

          Michael had trouble focusing on its limbs. Everything was... fuzzy. If he squinted, the angled feline paws shimmered into humanoid, skeleton hands with clawed gauntlets. Although it hunched when it rose to two paws, the monster looked anthropomorphic.

_The patience and gracefulness of a cat_ , the stories rumored. Not a cat. It was more like the wisps of a golden flame had curled into a Danse Macabre skeleton. He'd been expecting the Leonis Caput to charge the way the minotaur would have, not prowl around in this mesmerizing display.

          Michael wasn't ready. His spear was still tucked under one arm and the net was tangled in his other hand.

          "To me!" Ara's command broke Michael's paralysis. The erratic movement of the Leonis Caput put her into a retreat. She was trying to back them further down the floor expanse, away from the ledge.

          Michael fumbled to prepare the net, stepping to cover Ara's right side. The monster paused, just outside spear reach. _It's toying with us_ , Michael realized. _It **wants** me to throw the net._

          Something clattered from the Leonis Caput's skin onto the ground. Michael couldn't risk a glance, but heard the _hiss_ of released air. Mist, the same golden shade as the monster's fur, billowed up from their feet, coiling thickly around the Leonis Caput.

_With the intelligence and innovation of a half-blood_ , Michael recited numbly.

          The monster sank low to the ground and crawled into the smoke. Another clatter. Tendrils of gas curled up, thickening to make the torchlight a warm glare against a golden expanse of fog. Michael couldn't see the window in front of them anymore, or the ledge behind them.

          "Get against the wall!" Ara shouted.

          "Oh gods," Michael breathed. He tried to see the camera, to get an idea of where the Leonis Caput was.

          The familiar buzz hummed to their left.

          "Circle to the left!" he whispered. "The camera--the camera is trying to get shots of the Leonis Caput. If the camera is on our left, that means the monster is on our right. March left!"

          They started to move. Michael's heartbeat thundered louder than their footsteps. He wanted to call a halt so they could listen for the Leonis Caput's movements, but it had remained _silent_. Michael wondered if it was in the same location it had crouched down.

          Ara had her sword in her left hand and the torch in the hand closest to him. He could still see her silhouette, slightly crouched, eyes scanning and alert.

          Each step, Michael waited for the floor to give. What if--as soon as they couldn't see the floor--it shifted? He tried not to think about the possibility, darting his gaze for any hint of movement in the fog.

          They didn't make it to the wall.

          The creature flickered in the smoke behind Ara. It pounced, slamming its hind legs into the back of Ara's knees. It clasped her hair with its front limbs. Ara shouted as she collapsed backwards, trying to twist her sword as she fell.

          Michael turned to stab with his spear, but stopped, afraid of skewering the centurion.

          As she fell backwards onto of the creature, the Leonis Caput jammed its knees into her back. When they both hit the floor, it kicked upward and flipped Ara. She disappeared into the fog and—judging from the delay of her landing--over the ledge.

          Ara cursed when she crashed back into the hallway below. At least Michael knew she was alive. He was afraid the throw would have snapped her neck.

          Michael lunged with his spear when the Leonis Caput was recovering. The monster rolled _into_ the strike. A jolt stunned Michael's arm, like he'd slammed the spear into concrete. His blade glanced off the Leonis Caput's fur incurring little more than a grunt.

_The invulnerability of a god..._

          The Leonis Caput sprung onto its feet, well inside Michael's guard.

          The stench of death was overwhelming. Michael's mouth felt swollen and he knew he would have thrown up if there was anything left in his stomach. From this distance--maybe a foot away--he could see the creature's face. Like with its limbs, the focus blurred. He could make out a crunched, feline snout, spread wide to expose rivets of teeth. As the Leonis Caput advanced, Michael couldn't break his gaze from the creature’s eyes.

          They were _inside_ the monster's mouth, staring out from its throat. They glistened reflectively, slit like a cats, but narrowed like a strategizing human.

_I'm about to die_ , Michael realized belated.

          But the Leonis Caput didn't slash its claws into his stomach as he expected. The monster half stepped past Michael, entangling Michael's closest leg with its own. Then it chest slammed him.

          Michael felt his caught leg give. He tumbled backwards. When he tried to catch himself, his opposite leg caught on a barrier--the window edge.

          He fell through.

          Everything went dark except the rectangular glow of the window.

          Michael tried to right himself, so he'd land feet first, but the ground came too fast.

          As his right arm made contact, he felt his forearm bend a few inches above the wrist, like it was made out of putty. The two bones inside _snapped_.

          The world went grey. Michael couldn't hear himself screaming. He didn't feel the rest of the fall, just the spot where it felt like someone had hit his arm with a sweltering sledgehammer.

_You have a compound fracture. Your radius bone is likely sticking outside your skin--_

_Shut up, shut up,_ he screamed internally. _That_ was not what he needed to focus on, that--

_It is under threat of contamination from exterior--_

          Nausea swept over him when he tried to sit up. Instead, he lay there, gasping for air. The reek of animal hide was fainter.

          He didn't have any nectar, ambrosia, or unicorn draft. All he had was his brain. He'd need to stop the bleeding. He'd need to make a split. He'd have to touch the bone. _At least it's my arm, I can still walk_.

          "MICHAEL? MICHAEL!" he heard Ara shouting.

          "I'm fine," he croaked or tried. "My arm is broken."

          Something small flew through the window opening. Although he couldn’t see it as the camera shifted away from the window’s light, Michael could hear it buzz above him. He bit back a whimper. Either the Leonis Caput was in here, or it was coming.

          " _Come out... come out..."_ a new voice sang, deep and gravely. It was coming from the darkness beside the window.

          Rattling erupted from the same location, further up, then rapidly descending downward. There must have been metal bars along these walls, like there had been on the exterior one.

          " _What gave you away? The beat of your heart_."

_Or my scream_ , Michael thought. He forced himself to sit up. The pain made his head spin, but he mindlessly listed off the best strategists in Roman history, trying to keep himself conscious. _Flavius Aetius--Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa--Lucius Aemiliu--_

          "I'm coming to get you!" Ara shouted before screaming in rage, _"Kratos!"_

          Michael wanted to shout at her to stop. Her father's blessing would probably give her the strength to scale up to this window, and the resiliency to land safely, but he _knew_ this was a trap for her. If the Leonis Caput was as intelligent as Michael suspected, then it would wait for her godly strength to run out and attack her when it knew she no longer had that as a fall back.

_"Don't pout... don't pout..."_ the song and rattles were almost level with the floor.

          Michael blindly reached beside him with his good arm. Each movement sent shockwaves through the broken limb, but he found what he was looking for: his spear shaft.

_"I have known where you were right from the start."_

          The faint patter of feet landed in front of him. Michael needed more time. He had a theory, but he needed Ara to make a distraction, so he could take aim properly. Children of Minerva were known for outsmarting monsters. He could do this.

          "Are you... are you a cursed half-blood of something?" Michael asked, swallowing. "You are, aren't you? You're too smart to be a monster."

          In the Labors of Hercules, The Nemean lion had indestructible fur. Maybe, if he could get the Leonis Caput close enough to stab between its flaps of fur, he could hurt it.

          "I am no half-blood."

          The whisper startled Michael. The voice wasn't the low, growl of song he heard earlier, nor the vicious mock of Jak-Jak but that of a solemn boy. "I applaud you though, child of Minerva. I hope it pleases you to know you were the first Roman to speculate I was more than a monster."

          "No one else gave you proper attention," Michael tried. There was no myth for him to guess what would keep the Leonis Caput talking, but at least this was something. A few mores seconds and Ara would be here.

          A grunt of amusement came from the darkness. Then the soft patter of feet resumed forward. "I wish there was another way out for the two of you, little _probatio._ "

          A thump hit the window. Michael glanced up from the darkness to see Ara block the glow from outside, torch in right hand, sword in the other. Fortunately, from the light that Ara's torch cast down into the room, Michael could see the Leonis Caput looked up as well.

          Michael stabbed.

          Although he knew the blow wouldn't be a killing one--he didn't have the strength with his non-dominate arm--he managed to slide the blade between two flaps, slashing right at its ribs.

          His heart skipped a beat.

          It was like he stabbed at a pool of water. There was no definite contact. Michael choked at his mistake. Was... was it a skeleton? Wouldn't he at least hit bones?

          The Leonis Caput startled. It snatched the spear from his hands, sending another wave of pain through his broken arm.

          Then the Leonis Caput slammed the spear point into Michael's temple.

 

          Ara watched Michael sag to the floor. A howl of fury blasted from her lips.

          Applause chimed from above. The camera whirled nearby. JakJak's awful voice exclaimed, "A valiant effort from Michelangelo Russo, but one contestant down, and _One. To. Go_!”

          Ara didn’t give the Leonis Caput time to move.

          She lunged into the room, dropping the torch to the floor ahead of her. The flame trembled, but maintained its brilliance as it thunked onto the stones below. Unlike Michael, she landed feet first, crouching into a roll to absorb the blow, knowing the blessing of Kratos would help insulate the shock to her body. When she sprang to her feet, she found the Leonis Caput prancing up the lowest metal rungs on the wall.

          Ara set her sword down, picked up the torch with her left hand, wound it up baseball style and released.

          The flame flashed as it soared, nailing the Leonis Caput in the back.

          A horrific, roar—one that sounded more like a pneumonic cough than a vicious yowl—escaped the Leonis Caput.

          As it tumbled off the rungs, Ara charged forward. Each step sent a tugging sensation through her stomach; Kratos’ blessing surged a divine adrenaline into her muscles. She made it to the wall just before the Leonis Caput rose to its hind legs.

          Ara punched at its throat.

          The Leonis Caput jerked to the side.

          Her fist slammed into the wall, exploding dust everywhere. The shockwave rattled the metal rungs loose, raining pieces of shrapnel from above.

          They stumbled back from the debris. Before she had her full footing, Ara could see the creature make a jump for another set of rungs—

          She shot a hand out to snatch one of its hind paws. The Leonis Caput stumbled, only able to right itself a few feet away.

          “You will fight me as a warrior, not as a coward!” Ara screamed. “EITHER THIS WILL BE A BATTLE OR _I’LL_ BE THE ONE HUNTING _YOU_!”

          With her father’s blessing, she was faster than it and _would not_ let it scamper away.

          The torch blazed on the floor, reflecting the standoff between their shadows. Dust particles settled around as tiny audience members. The Leonis Caput’s reflective eyes studied her from inside its gaping jaws. Slowly, it nodded its head, bloody mane quivering against its humanoid chest.

          “No more tricks,” it agreed in the voice of a somber young man. “Your strength and speed vs. mine, Centurion Laskaris.”

          That annoying buzz hovered closer. “Oh my Titan! Look at this turn of events!” Jak-Jak mocked through the camera’s speaker. “What kind of monster demonstrates this kind of integrity? Is this kind of battle what we want to see?”

          The Labyrinth thundered with approval; the walls vibrated with applause.

          This time when the Leonis Caput growled, the anger was directed at the camera. It flicked a paw to the side, extending three obsidian claws, each the length of a butcher knife.

          Instead of charging at her, the Leonis Caput turned the blades on itself and reached inside his own jaws.

          Ara scuffed in disgust and lifted her sword from the ground. She wouldn’t be disturbed or distracted by… whatever it was doing.

          It started garbled chanting in a language Ara had never heard, with harsh sounds and airy “ _yuhh”_ noises. The air pressure in the room dropped, popping her ears. Waves of soggy heat rippled through the chill of the Labyrinth.

          When it withdrew the blades from its mouth, blood dripped off the top one.

_Which means it can bleed_ , Ara realized.

          She snatched the torch in her opposite hand and bounded forward. Watching felt wrong. Whatever it was doing violated some innate, core principle she hadn’t known she had. The sight made her sicker than falling onto the Roman bodies.

          The Leonis Caput ripped the spear from Michael’s temple and hefted the weapon in its empty grip. Hand? Ara could see the ligament haze between the image of that and a paw.

          It darted to meet her.

          To her disgust, it flicked the obsidian claws at her before they intercepted, spraying the blood. Upon contact with the torch’s fire, the blood popped and sparked blue.

          No time to comprehend.

          The Leonis Caput jammed the spear at her shoulder.

          Ara parried with her sword, pushing forward to close the distance, so the monster no longer had the spear’s advantage of reach.

          Instead of retreating, the Leonis Caput tucked into a roll past her right side.

          She slammed the torch down onto its back, temporarily forgetting the monster’s claws.

          Pain tore through her right shin and she knew the monster’s obsidian blades had cut her to the bone.

          When the Leonis Caput gave its coughed roar, Ara’s thoughts froze up. She pivoted on her good leg to face it. Blood soaked her right pant leg, sticking the material to the wound.  

          A tail—black and spotted grey--now oscillated behind the monster, one she didn’t remember from before. Inside the yawning line of teeth, underneath the glowing eyes, there was a second set of fangs. _Had it moved faster?_ Smoke sizzled from the Leonis Caput’s burnt back.

          The new tail—the second set of fangs—the speed--none of it matter. What mattered was that seared mark.

_Fire could hurt it._

          “Come with it!” Ara snarled.

          The Leonis Caput lunged.

          This time, she caught the spear shaft between her sword and torch. With a twist of the wrist, she snapped the wood just below the spearhead.

          Ara thought the monster would attempt another low slash, to disable her other leg, or tumble out of the way. She was prepared for that. Instead, the Leonis Caput slammed her torch into the ground with the remains of the spear shaft.

          Then it leapt.

          And Ara realized, even with the blessing of Kratos, the Leonis Caput _was_ still faster. When she recognized its intent for attack, she smashed the pommel of her sword upward, but it was too late.

          The monster’s two sets of fangs were already shattering her skull.


	3. Part III

          The din of cheers and exodus from the auditorium simmered down to the lull of the broken HVAC system, whirling in the ceiling. Jak-Jak plopped the announcer microphone onto the splintering wood of the table. This control box needed some major upgrades, among them an infinite snack bar and a Plexiglas exterior, so monsters couldn’t throw dismembered limbs when the approval ratings were low.

          That particular showing would get phenomenal scores. Although he had cut the feed to the theater’s screen, he could still see the hover camera fluttering after the Leonis Caput. The monster was in a sorry state. As it dragged the girl’s corpse towards the pile, Jak-Jak could detect a slight limp to its awkward gait. It moved stiffly, and Jak-Jak had to wonder if the beast was disturbed by the smell of its own seared skin.

          Megara’s death was a pity. That kind of resilience and shear strength—Jak-Jak suspected Axel could have fallen for a girl like that, crushing their local boy scout’s celibatic strike. [1] Maybe the poor kid wouldn’t die of lung cancer at the age of twenty five if he’d learn to let loose in other ways than smoking.

          As Jak-Jak suspected, once the Leonis Caput had Megara’s body laid out with the others, it frisked its furs, withdrawing two golden drachma. From this distance and lighting, Jak-Jak couldn’t actually see the coins, but he’d heard rumors that the bodies were being properly prepared.

          Jak-Jak held off a smirk. There wasn’t much of a head to place the coins on. Megara’s skull had been cracked clean open. Regardless of the gross fluids and missing grey matter, the Leonis Caput gently closed her eyes, placing the two coins down reverently.

          This had started about a month ago and Jak-Jak wanted to know why.

          He flicked the microphone back on and started to hum the song from _Sleeping Beauty_ , “ _I know you, I walked with you…”_

          The Leonis Caput retracted its two outer knives, leaving only the middle one up and flicked off the camera.

          Jak-Jak chuckled, mumbling, “Wolverine did it better.”

          He almost screamed and fell out of his chair when someone opened the door.

          He did when he saw it was The Big Cheese.

          “What in Tartarus were you thinking?” Luke snarled. The half-blood had his typical bronze breast plate on and fancy sword at his side.

          At that moment, Jak-Jak was contemplating the afterlife, and how—in Catholicism—their bodies were supposed to _physically_ rise at Rapture, so—if Megara were Catholic—she’d be mocked as _50 Shades of Brain Matter_ around the Second Coming.

          When Jak-Jak saw Kelli walking closely behind Luke, he decided to answer differently. “I was wondering if you two were looking for a place to—“

          “He—“ Luke pointed at the screen where the Leonis Caput was limping back to get the other body. By now, Chris and Mary were tentatively scrambling into the Labyrinth to help him. “—is going on a mission in _two days_. Why didn’t you stop the match or release another monster when the centurion called on the blessing of Kratos?”

          “Maybe I wanted him to die. Then I could leave in his place,” Jak-Jak mused. “Competition does not breed fraternity among troops. Might you rework your philosophy on how to daddy us, as Alabaster would preach in so many eloquent words.”

          Luke growled, but it sounded like a kitten after listening to the Leonis Caput’s menacing purrs.

          Jak-Jak rolled his eyes, forgetting Luke’s humor was disappearing with each half-blood they got on their side. “What’s the big important mission? Are you finally sending the Triple A’s after Percy? Or—oh! His mother! I had one of the little ones do some research. We have her address and Percy is too stupid to stay close enough to guard he—“

          Luke smacked Jak-Jak across the head. “I _do not_ need help taking care of Percy. We do _not_ need his mother. And _you_ are still in trouble for putting our unit of commission for a month.”

          Jak-Jak rubbed his cheek. “Collateral damage. The monsters do it all the time. They’re always ‘accidentally’ eating half-bloods.”

          “We do not,” Kelli chided. She’d stepped further into the room, looking a real stunner with stilettos and a tiny black dress. When Jak-Jak stared at her skeptically, she waved a hand, “Well, just once in awhile.”

          Luke frowned. “I don’t like when you joke about that.”

          Jak-Jak released a low whistle. “My bet’s with Pax. She’s going to eat your naïve ass. And we’ll all be laughing.”

          The scowl returned to Luke’s face. He pointed at the screen. “You better make sure he’s okay to fight by tomorrow, or it’s your head I’m coming after.”

          “Oh, I’ll go sing him a pretty lullaby to put him to sleep,” Jak-Jak smirked.

          “And don’t pull any more of these so close to an assassination. I need that Roman senator taken out. If you do this again, I’ll shut this down,” Luke threatened.

          That sounded about as hollow as Jak’s soul. He leaned back into his chair. “A loitering army is a bored army. A bored army is a dangerous army. Especially with scrumptious half-bloods looking so yummy to monsters.” He winked at Kelli.

          Kelli giggled.

          “You’ll want to keep those monsters entertained somehow,” Jak-Jak said. “Besides, I think you should present this to Antaeus. He already agreed to let us recruit monsters using his arena, but showing him these babies—“ Jak-Jak patted a flash drive that stored past hunts. “—might be just what we need for him to allow us through that portion of the Labyrinth.”

          Luke’s scowl darkened. He took Kelli’s hand and turned to leave. “We’re not discussing this. Just get _him_ healed.”

          As they left, Jak-Jak softly sang RadioHead’s “ _We Suck Young Blood_ ,” probably setting the appropriate mood for Kelli and Luke’s cute little rendezvous.

          Then he whirled back to the camera. _And on this eve, two more Romans find their place in the nightmares of a beast._ Jak-Jak grinned, thinking how much a waste the Leonis Caput was in the Labyrinth. If he had his way, this monster would be unleashed from the rumors of Rome and into the daylight of Camp Half-Blood. If everything went well when they infiltrated Camp Half-Blood through the Labyrinth, then he’d have his way.

 

[1] Most of the characters mentioned are from my series _Traitors of Olympus_ and will be further discussed in other _Tales from Mount Othrys._ If you’re interested, please check them out! :D

 

Thanks for reading all the way through! Please leave me a comment so I can hear what you think! :D


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